


The Thorns of War

by Bonfoi



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 2006, Action/Adventure, Aftermath of Violence, Challenge Response, Community: miettes_desmots, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Romance, Second War with Voldemort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-22
Updated: 2013-06-22
Packaged: 2017-12-15 18:16:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/852557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bonfoi/pseuds/Bonfoi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Summary:</b>   Spying is dangerous, especially if one is Draco Malfoy.  Good thing Harry Potter has a thing for “saving people”.<br/><b>Challenge: </b>  Written for lj comunity Miettes_Desmots, April 2006 submission.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Thorns of War

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cannette](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Cannette).



> Keywords: apathy, surreptitious, clandestine  
> Dialogue: "How long? How long can you carry this vendetta on your broken shoulders?"
> 
> * * *
> 
>  **A/N:** _Many kudos and thanks to Calanor for beta-reading this! An angel heaven-sent!_

~~~/||\~~~

Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter, its characters and settings are the copyrighted works of J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros., her publishing companies and affiliates. No profit was made from the writing of this story nor was any malice intended in any way, shape or form to the author or the actors/actresses who so brilliantly have brought them to life.

**This author is not responsible for underage readers. Please observe the ratings, warnings, and age of legal consent for your country.**

~~~\||/~~~

Harry picked himself up with a grimace. The blood from his head wound had crusted over, leaving a red, peeling trail down his face. Each blink of his right eye seemed to pull at his scalp in a most unnatural, and uncomfortable, way.

He could hear the fighting still going on in the darkness as he stumbled from tree to tree. The flashes of curses and hexes were an unwelcome beacon in the dark, but, still he soldiered on. That is, until he tripped over a body crumpled in the shadows of a venerable oak, wrapped in a dark cloak.

A muttered _Lumos_ , and he found himself looking down on one of the men he depended upon for accurate information and some sanity: Draco Malfoy. The deepest spy they had in the camp of the Death Eaters had missed their last clandestine rendezvous the night before, and was the reason that Harry was crashing through the underbrush.

It had taken two long years to forgive the former Slytherin enough that Harry would even stand to be in the same room with him; it had taken two more before he’d believe a word that came from those pureblooded lips. The memories often floated behind Harry’s perceptions, tingeing them a pale green in his mind.

He drew in a shaky sigh and fell to his knees by the still-unresponsive spy. He knew something was terribly wrong when those slim, white fingers didn’t lash out with that wand and have him almost hexed within in an inch of his life. Casting his fuzzy mind back over the healing spells he’d been researching, he latched on to one that would bring Draco to consciousness slowly, allowing his mind to control the pain as he surfaced. Harry may have wanted to know what had happened, but, he cared too much to make it more painful than it had to be.

Once the spell was invoked, Harry had only to sit back against the tree and wait for the signs of Draco’s return to the land of the living. He thought back over the past four years, about the changes in their lives and their circumstances, about how he’d come to depend on the prat for more than the obvious.

* * *

Draco didn’t want to leave the calm of his subconscious; he had finally resigned himself to dying alone, but in blissful peace. Then, that thrice-damned spell—he felt the magic as it interacted with his—and he was slowly becoming aware of the clammy dirt clinging to his cheek, and the scent of moldering leaves, and…the sound of another person.

Four years of spying and hiding had honed his senses. Once awakened, he’d let his senses read the situation for him, painting a picture in his mind. A familiar snuffle had his eyes popping open, and a breathy, “Potter?” flowing past his lips. He lost his chance at being surreptitious as his body flopped over in the direction of the surprising sound.

“Nice to see you, too, Draco. Fancy a bath in the moonlight?” Harry’s low rumbly whisper fell from grinning lips. Unfortunately, the face left much more to be desired.

“Damn, Potter! Grab the wrong end of a Hungarian Horntail?” Draco never had been subtle in his observations.

Harry shifted so that he was closer to Draco, flinging part of his cloak over him as well. “So…now that we’ve got the niceties out of the way, mind telling me why I found you practicing your best imitation of a fallen log?”

Maneuvering himself up and slightly over, Draco leaned into the warmth and farther under the cloak. “I was leaving the most recent battle planning session when Messieurs Parkinson, Crabbe and Goyle waylaid me. They were curious as to why Pansy was drowning in apathy if I was so thrilled to be marrying her. You and I both know that it’s all part of my cover, but, when I said it was most likely her time of the month and unfortunately, the supply of Belgian chocolates had dried to a trickle…. _That_ didn’t go over too well.” He coughed even as he snuggled closer.

Searching under the folds of cloth for Harry’s calloused hand, Draco sighed when he felt his fingers being grabbed. “The three dimwits thought I should be more…supportive and caring, I guess. They thought to beat some manners into me before the wedding.”

Holding his lover close to his own battered body, Harry tried to think clearly for the first time in hours. Maybe the Death Eaters had figured out that Draco was doing something, but, not that he was spying? Or, maybe Parkinson’s father really did care if his little girl got a loving husband? Shaking his head at that, he realized no pureblooded father seemed to value love over galleons.

“You do realize you’re taking your frustrations out on the Death Eaters? We’ve got enough information to round them up, and for me to destroy the last Horcrux now. Yet, you won’t let me do it, Draco? Why?” Harry’s voice was low, but, still it carried the weight all his battles in it.

Draco closed his eyes before he answered. “Potter…Harry…we’re in the middle of the forest…both of us beaten and tired…and, now you want me to tell you why I don’t want you racing off to what might be your death? Why I don’t want to lose…to lose you?” he whispered.

A shaking pale hand reached out in the moonlight and fluttered against Harry’s still bloodied cheek before it fell. “Potter, you have your battles, and I have mine….”

Blinking back tears or blood—he didn’t know which and he didn’t really care—Harry clutched his lover to his chest. “How long? How long can you carry this vendetta on your broken shoulders? We…I…can’t win without you, Draco! I NEED YOU, DAMN IT!” He shook as he fiercely whispered into the matted blond hair.

Draco’s eyes were unfocused as he looked into Harry’s face, but, the brunet still thought he could see how much Draco loved him. “Har…Harry…I hate them for turning us into murders and bigots. I hate them for making it so hard to be good in this world.” He coughed again, and then continued, “I truly hate them for trying to break us apart.”

* * *

The rustle of leaves in the soft breeze, and the chirping of insects filled in the silence. The fighting had dwindled as the moon passed its zenith and the dawn approached. The pair hidden in the shadows had been missed by both sides.

As the moon’s path drew closer to its journey’s end, Harry felt his reserves of power filling. In moments, he’d be able to side-along apparate Draco out of the woods. But, their conversation tonight had given him much to think about, and more to love about the sometimes-pretentious prat in his arms. Somehow, they would have to come up with a final plan; after tonight, there would be no more spying, no more skulking about, and most definitely, no more jeopardizing Draco’s life.

~~~+~~~ Fini ~~~+~~~

_~~~ Comments, like rain in the desert, are greatly appreciated.  
Thank you for reading. ~~~_


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